


Mudd Hall

by TheShipSailsItself



Category: Charmed (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Hilltowne U setting, Mutual Pining, Sexual Content, destruction of personal property, semi-public sexual encounters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2020-10-11 10:23:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20544590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheShipSailsItself/pseuds/TheShipSailsItself
Summary: Macy and Harry make out on campus.Diverges from canon immediately after the S1 finale.





	1. Chapter 1

Macy just wants to kiss him without there having to be someone watching. There’s only so much she can take when they’re on campus pretending for the sake of faculty and staff to be a couple. She wants to kiss him without pretense, without cause, without a damn audience.

She’s tired of the looks Harry sends her when he thinks she’s not looking. She’ll catch him in the reflection of a glass door or in the shine of the kettle. Sometimes she’ll be digging through her bag and when she looks up through the fall of her hair she’ll catch him giving her _a look_ just before he turns away. Those looks are so often filled with such intense longing. Her heart breaks nearly every single time. She’s so tired of not being able to do anything about it because they agreed to pretend, _pretend_ that there’s nothing but friendship between them. So he looks at her and she pretends not to notice, not to want to chase those looks away with a real, honest to god kiss.

And then there are the looks he’ll give her when they have kissed or touched in some way. When his mouth soften on hers for just a moment, parting as if this time, finally he would let her taste more than just the hint of tea on his lip. Or when she feels his hand slide down her waist as they stand side by side talking to whichever professor has caught them just before orbing. Those times Macy swears she sees dark gleam in his eyes mismatched by a smile so forced she can’t imagine anyone believing it to be genuine. And when their audience is finally gone she’ll glance back and see a look of hunger so focused on her that it does something electric to her whole body.

And she isn’t even the only one to notice. However emphatically Harry may claim to Macy’s sisters (and those few ancient beings still around that might frown on the idea of a witch with a Whitelighter) that every touch and kiss is all for show, Macy’s overheard a student or two of Harry’s comment on how they think their professor looks like he’s about to drag Dr Vaughn into a closet to do wildly inappropriate things with her. It’s almost too embarrassing to think about. There’s holding hands and sharing a kiss or two in public so nobody questions why the Chair of the Women’s Studies department can so often be seen coming and going from Macy Vaughn and her sister’s home at all hours of the day and there’s looking at a woman like you don’t care who knows how badly you want to drag her to your office and fuck her on your shiny leather couch.

It’s been months with the looks and touches and Macy wants to stop pretending to be a couple on campus and just *be* with Harry, damn the consequences. But up until now Macy hasn’t quite found the words to tell Harry what she wants. And it isn’t as if she hasn’t tried. She’s written script after script in her head but so far she hasn’t been able to speak a single word of her frustrations and desires to him.

So when the moment arrives, when everything becomes too much and her frustrations finally boil over Harry thinks they’re still playacting. He offers no protest when Macy, for the first time in her life working solely on instinct- on _need_, drags him into the shadowy alcove of a campus courtyard and pours every ounce of her desire for him into one long, deep kiss. He pulls away half dazed, lips slick, tongue sweeping out to catch her lingering taste.

-

She catches him completely unawares. He’s just about to comment on the usefulness of such a secluded courtyard when his whole world literally spins on its axis. Everything before the touch of her soft lips to his is a sandstone colored blur. Something is different, he notes somewhere in the back of his mind. But the parting of her lips, the sweep of her tongue against his and the throaty whine he’s sure he’s just imagining washes all thoughts away. She pulls him tighter against her and in the shadow of the archway he can see nothing but the glint of her eyes and shine their kiss has left on her lips. For the show, he tells himself as he dips down once again for another kiss. He swallows a groan as he forces himself pull away for a moment.

“Who did you see?” he asks breathlessly, his gaze going once again to her reddened mouth. Good god, was there no better sight than this? He turns his head to look over his shoulder and his eyes nearly roll to the back of his head when he feels her lips drift over the angle of his jaw. He wants so badly for that someone to still be there. _Needs_ them to be there so he can have just one more kiss. His need for her is verging on desperation. But there’s no one there, at least not anymore and now he needs to step away. He needs to put some distance between her body and his before Macy becomes <strike>intimately</strike> keenly aware of just how out of control his reaction to her kisses have become. His lips dip close again and again but he stops himself again and again (barely). He allows himself only the barest glide of his nose against hers before repeating his question.

Her reply is low and mischievous.

“No one.”

-

There’s a bubble of laughter that threatens to burst out of her when his eye widen, penny most certainly dropping. With a groan that Macy thinks might have been her name, he dives in to capture her smirking lips. The sound that rumbles in his throat is so _needy_ she can’t help but answer it with a whine of her own. She gasps as he practically flattens her against the cool, rough stone at her back.

A vivid image of Harry falling to his knees and giving her this kind of ferocious attention invades Macy’s mind. She imagines them in the attic, or his office, or against the kitchen pantry, her skirt bunched in his fists, the heat of his mouth traveling up the line of her inner thigh and she finds herself practically keening into his open mouth. Her teeth nip roughly at his lip, begging him wordlessly for him to devour her. She shudders and clamps her thighs around the thigh Harry has pressed up between hers.

Oh god, how had she missed that? And his hands, Harry’s hands that at this moment really do have her skirt bunched up around her waist. He’s holding it there with his fingers also hooked into the thin straps of her panties, knuckles grazing, rubbing at the firm flesh over her hipbones. His thigh rocks against her and she pulls away from the kiss to say his name, to beg him for more but all that escapes is a half-choked cry. His lips latch onto the side of her neck as he drags her roughly up along his thigh and Macy’s vision begins to-

“PROFESSOR GREENWOOD! HAVE YOU LOST YOUR GODDAMN MIND?”


	2. Chapter 2

“PROFESSOR GREENWOOD! HAVE YOU LOST YOUR GODDAMN MIND??”

It’s only the first voice they hear in a chorus of scandalized and frankly angry voices. Macy lifts her head from where Harry’s shoulder where she had instinctively hidden but only enough to peek at the group of impeccably dressed business looking men and women barreling towards them down the arched corridor.

“Trustees Board,” he squeaks out into her ear. A glance at Harry’s face does nothing to calm her rising panic. The last time she saw this look on Harry’s face it had involved several hundred thousand bees. He tries to literally jump away from her but Macy's hands are still clutched at his collar and all he manages to do is yank them both out of the shadows in the bright afternoon sun. And more specifically, in plain view of the entire Trustees Board. 

“Harry!” His eyes widen even more and for a split second she’s actually afraid he’s going to orb them away in front of all these people. He’s still trying to move away so she has no choice but to wind her fingers into his hair and _pull_ while grinding out a harsh, “Stop. Moving.”

He lets out a muffled whimper that sounds nothing like panic and unbelievably she feels his hips buck. But then Harry <strike>obeys</strike> stills, not even daring to draw a breath. Macy cautiously releases her now stone-still Whitelighter and drops her hands to her own waist. She tugs at her skirt and untangles the hem from the straps of her underwear. She lets the skirt drop back between their bodies. As screwed up as this situation is, Macy is not ready to make it worse by letting what looks like the entire Board of Trustees have a gander at her panties. 

Feeling sufficiently covered up she gives a nod to Harry and takes a step out from his shadow. As she does so Macy slips her hand in his, tugging him around so they can face the angry, well-dressed ‘mob’ together.

“Take a deep breath, Harry.” Macy threw the Board a tight smile. “Because we are so getting fired.”

-

“_Professor Greenwood_.”

Harry winces at the sound of his name, spat out with such menace that he almost wishes it was a demon behind him. The speaker, Mrs. Reston, is as per her usual at the head of the pack. She’s looking at him with nothing less than disdain. What Harry first did to earn her ire he still doesn’t know. But suffice it to say that their situation is most definitely not made better by the scowling woman’s presence. And now, more than ever, without the Elders and their intervention Harry’s employment at the university rests in the hands of Mrs. Reston and the rest of the scandalized crowd now staring at Macy and himself as they try to right their clothing and hair.

“What is the hell of all this damn fuss about? Get out of my way, Percival,” grumbles another voice from behind the mass of trustees. Harry hears Macy blow out a relieved breath and follows her gaze to the stooped man elbowing his way through the crowd. "Dana, what the hell are you glaring at that man for this time? Oh, Dr. Vaughn. I didn’t see you there.”

“Dr. Finch, good afternoon, sir!” 

Macy’s greeting to the elderly trustee is warm, easy going, even. Her mouth widens into a sunny smile, bright and seemingly relaxed. If it wasn’t for the sweaty, vice-like grip Macy has on his hand he could almost believe she’d simply run into the group on a normal, afternoon stroll with him as opposed to having just been caught mere moments from breaking apart astride his leg and with him attached to her neck like a lamprey.

“Gerald, these two_,_” Mrs. Reston pauses to glare at both Harry and Macy. “_These two_ were- Were-”

“Canoodling,” another trustee offers in a bland tone cutting her fellow trustee off mid-sputter.

“YES. In full view of any student that might walk by. That kind of flagrant, public indecency is wholly inappropriate for anyone to be engaging in on campus much less a _faculty member_ and a- a-”

“Yes, thank you, Dana,” Dr. Finch says while giving a paternalistic pat to her arm. “I think understand. Well, at the very least, she’s not a student.” And at that the old man winks at Macy.

Harry watches as Macy flushes and lets out a nervous, uncomfortable chuckle. Something white-hot swirls up in Harry but Macy’s hand tugs at him and he swallows his own outraged diatribe building up behind his teeth. As much as this one trustee may have a soft spot for Macy he is still part of the Board that allowed Thaine continued employment and thus access to students even after credible allegations had been brought forward. He settles for stiffly straightening his coat and contorting his face into what he hopes is a contrite expression.

“We apologize, Mrs. Reston, Dr. Finch, trustees. I absolutely agree that our behavior was wildly inappropriate. You have our assurances it will not happen again.” 

Macy presses her shoulder into his and nods in solidarity. “This is never going to happen again," she concurs emphatically. She shoots Harry her own apologetic look and he feels a knot starting to form in his stomach. "_Never_.”

“Yes, well as it seems we are all on the same page I’d say 'carry on' but please- Don’t. In fact if the two of you could see yourselves off campus grounds for the rest of the day it would be better for us all.”

Mrs. Reston continues to glare but the rest of the trustees are all nodding in agreement. Wasting no time and taking no chances, Macy and Harry bid the group goodbye and make their escape.

-

They speed walk down the remaining length of the corridor and head straight through the heavy wooden doors of the entrance. Macy lets Harry lead them through the empty hallways of his building and up the stairwell that leads to his office. She's moving on autopilot as she tries to think of the right words to apologize to Harry for putting them in that situation. To explain away her temporary insanity. They’re still at least two floors below his office when Harry pulls them to a stop. This time it’s Harry dragging Macy into a dark corner for a kiss. And for the second time that day Macy finds her back pressed up against a wall and her senses filled with nothing but Harry.


	3. Chapter 3

There’s something about this little corner that makes Macy’s feet tingle. She feels surrounded by Harry in a way that has nothing to do with the fact that his hands are cradling her face and he seems intent on introducing every inch of the inside of her mouth to his lemon and tea flavored tongue. If she had a moment to think about it, she might be able to put her finger on it. 

But as it is there are kisses to return and hands she should probably pay more attention to if they don’t want a repeat of the courtyard’s events, especially given that those clever fingers are once again climbing up the sides of her legs with her skirt in hand. The skirt she had chosen for its modest, calf-length hemline is once more ruched up well above her knees, her thighs, and oh god, back again above the waistband of her satin underwear. Harry sighs her name and pulls his lips away, giving them both the briefest moment to breathe. 

Macy gulps in air and feels more than hears Harry murmuring compliments against the side of her neck; his lips brush against a particularly sensitive patch of skin and a shiver arcs through her. When his hand reaches down between them to adjust himself it sends more sparks down her spine and over every inch of her skin as the backs of his knuckles brush quite deliberately at her. 

His mouth curves against her throat barely a moment before his lips and teeth close around _that spot_ and the negative pressure Harry applies sends the back of her head thunking into the wall and her hands scrabbling at the back of his coat.

Harry’s self-satisfied chuckle stirs something in her, and Macy’s hands slide up his back to bury themselves in his soft, dark hair and oh, the sounds he makes when her fingers twist and tighten. She could stand to hear more of that but there’s something that they were supposed to be doing, some place they were supposed to be going. 

Home? The Haunt? His condo? Anywhere that wasn’t on campus as per the Trustees Board. Macy gives another tug at his hair and gasps out, “Home!” 

Or at least she tries to. Her cheek is pressed against the still smooth skin of his clean-shaven cheek. She slides her cheek against his, intending to whisper the request (demand) to take them home to either of their beds in his ear but finds she can’t help but first scrape her teeth along the sharp line of his jaw. She gives him a nip of her own, a bit of revenge. 

But unlike the whine and shudder his teeth on her neck had drawn from her, Macy finds she’s unleashed something so much more needy, much hungrier in her Whitelighter. Harry’s hands, already buried wrist deep in the back of her panties, spasm over her backside before jerking down to grip at her thighs just above the backs of her knees. 

His hands move so quickly and with such unexpected force down the backs of her thighs that Macy hears a quick series of pop-pop, pop-pop’s as the flimsy straps of her panties break over Harry’s wrists. A scrap of mint green fabric flutters to the ground and Macy shivers as a rush of cool air hits her bared center. 

She might be a little more indignant about the destruction of one of her favorite VS purchases but for the way her buttoned-down and sometimes downright prim Whitelighter lifts her ass into the air, his elegant hands roughly pulling her knees wide apart, before wedging himself into the space he’s made for himself. 

Macy’s teeth clamp down on her lip as she tries to swallow down a scream, the hard line of Harry’s length, hidden behind the soft fabric of his perfectly tailored trousers, presses against the whole of her center, top to bottom. 

Her thighs close around his waist and her arms wind tighter around his shoulders. She’s pretty much just as tall as he is and still, he seems to have no problem holding her up. His hand grip tightly but not painfully under her thighs and his chest and hips pin hers to the plaster covered wall behind. She can hear his voice at her ear shushing her between urgent kisses, begging her to be just a little quieter, (_Macy, please, this circle only hides us from sight.)_

He dares to ask Macy for quiet even as he continues to buck his hips into hers, drawing cry after cry from her with each push of his clothed hardness against her naked sex. When she does manage to muffle her sounds his hips grind harder against her, seemingly unsatisfied without her plaintive whines for him to swallow down.

The sound of footsteps coming up the stairs pierces the thick fog of sex that seems to have permeated Macy’s brain and the moan that had been rising in her throat chokes off into a squeak. 

Harry’s sex fog, on the other hand, seems to be utterly unaffected as the fingers of one hand continue to creep their way up the underside of her bare thigh coming closer and closer to- Macy tightens her legs around his waist and digs her heels into the backs of his thighs. 

It doesn’t send the message she’d hoped it would. Instead of stilling, Harry takes the moment to lean fully into her, to press his entire torso against hers and roll his hips with achingly deliberate slowness into her and it feels like absolute magic. Macy’s thighs start to shake - to really, really shake just as she spots the tops of two heads cresting above the solid banister. 

“Harry_, stop!_” she hisses directly into his ear. 

He lifts his head from her neck, and she feels a chill with his heavy, panting breaths no longer washing over her skin. The look in his eyes is pleading, as is feel of his erection twitching against her through the fly of his pants. She almost mentions her car which they took to work this morning but the way his focus falls on her mouth, his own parting as his head dips inexorably toward her drives all thoughts outside of just getting home from her mind.

“Harry, take us home,” she pleads, just before diving in to seal her lips against his red and swollen mouth. With a jerk he pulls her away from the wall so that he has them standing at the center of a small chalk circle, Harry on his own two feet and Macy wrapped around him like a vine on a trellis. 

-

In the blink of an eye and the flash of his orb, Harry and Macy reappear in Macy’s bedroom. The landing has none of the normal finesse - they crash onto and _next to_ the side of the bed. Macy bounces as her back hits mattress, her head narrowly missing the solid wood of the chest at the foot of the bed. She sputters and swipes the hem of her skirt off her face to push herself up onto her elbows to see where Harry’s gotten off to. 

Harry, having completely missed the bed and some might say the floor altogether, is currently on all fours with his head perilously close to being knocked by Macy’s dangling knees. He rises to his knees and shuffles toward the bed until his hands are resting on the edge of the mattress, curling into the knitted bedspread on either side of her exposed legs.

The look on his face when he raises his head to look take in the sight of her laid out before him does nothing short of steal her breath away. Hungry is the only word for it. His eyes are locked on her bared sex and Macy, for her part, can’t seem to look away from his mouth, edges red and blurred from _her _kisses. The way his tongue comes out to slide over the swollen lower lip she, just moments ago, had between her teeth is-

“Wait!”

The one word is enough to freeze Harry in place, hands cupped over her knees, his face so close she can feel his breath flowing over her. That in his haze of want he is still listening to her makes Macy’s heart burst with love for him. She wants what he obviously wants but maybe not just yet. Maybe right now what Macy really wants is to get her hands on the part of Harry that was literally driving her up a wall just minutes ago. 

Maybe right now what she wants more than the attentions of those beautiful, reddened lips between her thighs is the weight of him above her, surrounding her, pressing her into the bed beneath her. Maybe right now what Macy craves is a kind of fullness that has been haunting her dreams for weeks now. 

She sits up and Harry shuffles back and up to his feet to give her the space to do so. His face wears an expression somewhere between forlorn and resigned.

“Next time, Harry,” she reassures him as she, herself, moves to stand. Her hands frame his face as she pulls him in for kiss.

“Mmm, I’m going to hold you to that, Dr Vaughn.” His smile is back and grows even wider as her hands move to undo the buttons of his waist coat. Harry, being no fool, does his part in toeing off his shoes while simultaneously reaching around to pull at the zippered closure of Macy’s skirt. He takes a moment to smooth his hands over her hips and backside, indulging in a bit of smugness, knowing she’s without pants under this skirt. Macy’s fingers drop down and make quick work of his belt before moving on to the fly of his slacks where she indulges in a caress or two of her own.

Harry’s slacks and Macy’s skirt drop from their hips at roughly the same time but the airy material of her skirt keeps it aloft far longer than the tightly woven cloth of Harry’s trousers. Macy lets herself giggle at her thoughts before refocusing on the task soon to be in her hands.

“What?”

“Nothing. I promise it’s nothing,” she says through a smile. Her hands reach for him and the way he gasps her name as her hand closes around him? How did he put it?

_Sublime_. 

She’s placing soft kisses along his arched neck when suddenly his hand falls on hers, stilling her ministrations. His eyes widen and his mouth opens and closes on words that don’t seem to be coming out. “Harry, what’s wrong?”

“Maggie. It’s Maggie and she’s calling for me.”

Harry steps back and grabs at the trousers around his ankles, yanking them up as his mind searches for Maggie’s location. He straightens up and just before he orbs away Macy calls out to him.

“Wait!”

Harry’s face tightens as the strain of the imperative to go to his charge tugs at his very being. Macy quickly shoves his shoes and coat at him and mouths, ‘_Go__’ _and with a flash of light he’s gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg, a new chapter. :::weeps softly::: i never thought this would happen. _A hundred thousand thank you's to Majestrix for beta!!!!!_ (it wouldn't have happened without you!)


	4. Chapter 4

Maggie whips around at the familiar sound of Harry’s orbing. But whatever she expected to see when her whitelighter arrived it certainly isn’t this. His shirt is hanging loose, halfway unbuttoned and untucked from his pants and his hair is a wild mess. He’s holding his shoes and coat in his hands in a way that, OMG HARRY, is he hiding a…?

“Harry!” Maggie hisses as she grabs his arm with her uninjured hand and drags him behind the boulder she’d previously been hiding behind. He yelps as his shoeless foot steps on something wet and sharp. Probably a stick. They’re in the middle of the woods so probably some gross, mossy twig. Maggie almost apologizes but what the hell is he doing orbing around with no shoes on? “Sorry, Harry,” she says with a whispered exasperation, rolling her hurt shoulder to shake out the return of the numbness. “Did I interrupt a nooner sexcapade or something?”

“I beg your pardon?!”

He sounds offended. Why should _he_ sound offended? Maggie gestures at his whole disheveled self.

“I’ve been calling you for like an hour. And I hate to break it to you but _you’re a wreck, Romeo_,” she sing-songs at him, snickering while handing him a shoe. 

“It has _not_ been an hour.” He snatches the item from her hand with a glare. 

“Fine, more like twenty or thirty minutes. But seriously, though, where _have_ you been?”

If she wasn’t currently being hunted by a mutant demon dog she’d bust out laughing when he huffs and rolls his eyes at her as he shoves the shoe onto his foot before scrambling around to search for its pair. She’s going to have so much fun with this when they get home. She _knew_ they wouldn’t be able to keep up the ‘fake’ part of their 'fake dating' up forever. But just as Harry finds and slips on his other shoe the sound of something enormous and full of demon-y rage crashes through the underbrush and the quiet of the forest is torn by the sound of Maggie's screams and the gurgle of blood filling Harry’s throat.

-

**_3 Hours Later_ **

Macy is just finishing up readying herself for bed when she feels the very specific tickle of magic being used in the kitchen below. She forgoes pulling her hair through her hair tie a third time and instead races out her bedroom door and practically flies down the stairs. She’s already calling out to Maggie before she even rounds the balcony’s corner. As she reaches the landing, Macy hears the bang of a door and the thunder of Mel’s steps hitting the steps right behind her. Together they sprint to the kitchen to either yell at or hug their baby sister and whitelighter. Though, given the pair’s three plus hours of radio silence, Macy has no doubt it will probably be both.

“Maggie? Are you okay? Harry!”

Macy finds them where she expected, though not in the state that either sister had hoped. 

“What the hell? Harry, what the hell happened to you guys? And how could you not come get us?!” Mel exclaims as she steps around Macy and makes a beeline for Maggie.

Maggie and Harry are both covered in a thick film of gray dust or ash from the waist up and mud and dead leaves from the waist down. Mud and leaves that are sloughing off onto the hardwood of the kitchen floor.

Deciding to turn her attention to the other half of the pair of recently returned adventurers, Macy steps up to Harry as he pulls odd pieces of sticks and rock out of his pockets and delivers them into the trash. His back is towards her when she places a hand against his side. He hisses and Macy whips her hand away. She moves to step in front of him and gasps. There’s a trickle of blood running down the left side of his face and she can see scratches in his scalp just beyond his hairline. Her heart nearly stops at the sight of even deeper scratches, no, _claw marks_ low across the base of his throat, healing due to Harry’s magical nature but still… And she now sees the heavy bloodstains on his collar that are muted, hidden under the opaque layer of dust. Macy’s mouth drops open but before she can utter anything Harry cuts her off.

“Don’t ask,” he mutters wearily and almost dismissively down at the trashcan as he tosses in one last pebble.

Macy explodes. The strain of all the different emotions of her day and the build up of hours and hours of waiting for any word from Harry or Maggie finally snapping her temper.

“_Do not_ tell me not to ask! Harry, you’re hurt and bleeding and Maggie’s…”

Mel’s hands flutter over Maggie, turning her this way and that, looking for any sign of injury. Maggie, in response, tries to shrug off her sister’s not so delicate ministrations. When that doesn’t work, Macy sees Maggie’s hand batting at Mel’s and she has to clamp down on a hysterical laugh at such a juvenile, _sisterly_ sight. And despite Maggie’s insistence, Macy leaves Harry to do her own, albeit slightly less intrusive, once over of her little sister.

“Guys, I’m _fine._ Harry, can you tell these two clutchy psychos I’m fine??_”_

“As if I would leave any of your sister’s injuries untended. Honestly, ladies, what do you think of me?” He’s huffing now and to Macy’s trained ear she can pick out the notes of actual peevishness in his voice, his control wearing just as thin as her own.

“Injuries.” Macy’s voice is quiet but edging on dangerous. Harry’s head tips back as if he’s looking for the patience to deal with this turn in the conversation. The sight of which does nothing to cool her temper. And when she can tear her glaring eyes away from him and turn back to Maggie she finally sees the tear in the sleeve of Maggie’s bomber jacket.

The tear is long and jagged. It goes from the back of Maggie’s shoulder clear down to her elbow. From the faint red tinge at the edges of the split fabric and the fact that she can see a huge swath of Maggie’s unmarred skin Macy deduces that her little sister was indeed hurt and then subsequently healed.

“Before or after you called for Harry?”

Maggie, sensing an oncoming storm in her eldest sister’s voice, is quick to step between Macy and their whitelighter.

“I can explain and it’s not Harry's fault! It isn’t, Macy! That stupid demon dog-troll thing took a swipe at me right after I called the first time and way before Harry even got there. And it wasn’t even hurting that much anymore, just kind of numb, when lover boy, over here, finally showed up.”

“The first time?” Macy’s chest tightens as she wheezes out the words.

Harry’s face reddens and he sputters out, “Maggie, I already apologized for my tardiness. There really is no need to-”

Macy cuts him off, “What do she mean ‘the first time’? Maggie, were you-” She can barely get the words out. Her stomach churns at the implications. “Maggie, how long were you calling for him?”

Maggie's voice is suddenly small and out of the corner of her eye Macy sees Mel throwing worried looks at Maggie and Harry. "Only about five minutes?"

Harry’s eyes slide shut as he sighs and hangs his head and Macy realizes that Maggie is _lying._

“How _long_, Maggie?”

"Well, I tried texting the group text but the reception out at Kappa has gotten so crappy since that drunk driver went into the cell tower last week and the forest was even worse. But that place was filled with kids and I couldn’t wait for you guys to-"

"Maggie!" Mel's voice rings out in the kitchen. Maggie’s eyes snap to Mel but Mel’s pinching the bridge of her nose.

“How. Long?”

"Okay, so it was more like half an hour. But that's really it. I was handling it! And not to mention saving Harry’s ass. It was pretty awesome! Harry, tell them how I got your bleeding to stop with that spell from last week and then totally kicked that dog-troll’s ass with just my one hand and some slicey-dicey spells. I was frickin’ on fire, you guys!"

“Half an hour?” Macy whispers to herself before turning her gaze to Harry, unbearable guilt and tears filling her eyes. “_Half an hour_, Harry. While we were... While _I was-_” 

Macy takes a step back and when Harry moves to follow, hands reaching for her, her hands fly up to ward him off. Her eyes widen and she clamps a hand over her mouth before she bolts out of the kitchen. They can barely hear her steps as she races up the staircase but at the sound of her bathroom door slamming shut somewhere above them Harry’s form whips into a flashing ribbon and he, too, disappears.


	5. Chapter 5

On any other day, in any other circumstance, Harry would never even contemplate entering a woman’s bedroom, much less Macy’s, without first obtaining their express permission. But the suddenly green look on Macy’s face, followed so quickly by the slamming of her bathroom door sends a thousand thoughts racing through Harry’s head. All thoughts of propriety swept away by concern for her, Harry orbs himself directly to the center of the master bedroom.

His eyes are drawn momentarily to the rumpled covers on Macy’s bed. Was it really just a few short hours ago that she was there, laid out before him like a veritable feast? Harry licks at his suddenly dry lips. If he closes his eyes he can very much remember the scent of her. He- _They_ had been so close. And before that, on campus, she had chosen without pretense to kiss him.

A longing rises up in him. Not a longing for the reckless and carnal haze that they'd lost themselves in but for the sweet relief of holding in his arms the woman that so thoroughly owned his heart. For the headiness of hope that his feelings might be returned. His memories of those moments now filled with shame, knowing that at that very same moment his youngest charge was being pursued and coming to harm while he was too preoccupied to hear her calls.

Harry hears the flush of the toilet and his thoughts snap back to the present. He quickly covers the distance to the little en suite bath and stops just short of entering, hands braced on the door jamb. He wants to go to her and lift her off the cold tile but Macy is already rising to her feet. 

She moves unsteadily to the sink where she cups her hands under the running tap. Harry waits until she’s done rinsing and wiping at her mouth before taking a hesitant step towards her. She shakes her head and he stops.

“I can’t right now, Harry.”

“Macy, I can ex-” he pauses to take a steadying breath and push down a wave of nausea. “We need to talk about this. Please, just let me explain.”

She shakes her head, biting her lip and gripping the edge of the sink until her knuckles visibly blanch. He cannot bear to see her like this, guilt and sadness clouding her features. And he cannot find it in him to keep his distance, not right now when thing seem to be spiraling so quickly out of control. Harry steps to her side and gathers her into his arms. A small spike of hope runs through him when she doesn’t immediately stiffen or push him away. Instead, Macy turns into him, her cheek coming down to rest on the lapel of his coat before jerking back with a cough. The movement disturbs the dust coating his clothes and it rises in a pale cloud.

Harry steps back with a weak laugh and offers up one of his small jokes he knows she loves to hate. But the joke falls flatter than usual and the seriousness in her face doesn’t budge. The relief from just moments ago fades quickly.

Macy looks him over, her fingers running though the hair over his ear. His eyes close and he leans into her touch. Her thumb brushes over the now dried trail of blood, knocking away rust colored flakes. What injuries were left after Maggie’s excellent spellwork were only superficial and have since healed in the short time he’s been home. Her hand pauses at the thick stains stiffening his opened collar. Harry catches the slightest tremble in backs of her fingers as they graze the skin beneath.

“You should get cleaned up, Harry.”

Harry leans forward, driven by a quiet, desperate voice inside his head that insists they are hurtling towards an ending. That the time for stealing kisses from these dusky, petal soft lips and feeling the warmth of her in his arms for any reason is drawing to a close. He leans forward needing their last frantic kiss not to, in fact, have been their last. Needing to capture one last taste of her that will also not be the last. She turns away and his lips instead graze her jaw just in front of her ear. The knot in his gut returns and tightens but Harry pushes past it, unwilling to give up just yet.

“Yes, you’re right. I’ll just take a quick turn in the shower.” He takes her hands in his and gives them a squeeze. “And then we will talk. Macy,” Harry moves to place himself squarely in her line of sight. “Afterwards, we _will_ talk.” It’s not an imperative but rather an emphatic statement he’s making, willing, begging the universe to make it happen.

She meets his eyes and her head tilts. Her lips press together in a sad approximation of a smile that does nothing to ease his worries.

“Yes, we’ll talk.”

It makes his heart thuds heavily at the way she says it, sad and resigned. He doesn’t want to leave her. He wants to stay. Wants to kiss her until this cloud of uncertainty fades away. He wants to go back to just a few hours ago when they were breathless and practically in flames for want of each other. He wants the bruising force of her lips against his and her hand clutched, biting into the skin at the nape of his neck.

He presses the lightest of kisses to her lips and for a moment, when she surges forward turning the kiss hard and desperate, the knot eases and hope sparks once more in his chest. But then the way she tears herself away… it feels like goodbye. Dread fills him, though instinct warns him not to push her any further.

“I’ll be quick. Sta- _Wait_ for me. Before you decide anything, just wait for me, Macy, please.”

Macy nods and silently, Harry commits himself to having the quickest shower he’s ever taken in his sixty years, even if it means using magic for personal gain. He allows himself one last squeeze of her hands before stepping back and, unwilling to lose even one more second, orbs himself away.


End file.
